Distracted
by Menolith
Summary: A mostly-platonic Freezerburn one-shot, featuring a sleepy Yang and an annoyed heiress.


Weiss was quite enjoying the movie night. The movie itself was some trash Yang had picked, a romantic comedy called "layers of something-or-other." Weiss hadn't paid attention in the first place, and when the cottony head of Yang had fallen snoozing on her lap the last vestiges of pretend interest had evaporated. That had been half an hour ago, and Weiss had busied herself with petting the locks on her lap.

God, Yang's hair was unfair. It was unrealistically thick, and Weiss bet that unless its owner didn't regularly autoignite it would take weeks to dry after a shower. She idly twirled a strand around her index finger as she watched Yang's sleeping face. She looked... serene. A great many adjectives came to her mind, but first and foremost to her Yang was always just warm. Partially because she was a living space heater with that passive Semblance of hers, and partially because Weiss herself lived up to her namesake.

Usually, that is. Weiss slept with an extra-thick blanket and had ordered a specifically tailored sleeping bag for their overnight missions to stave off the cold, but right now she felt just right. Yang's hair was the focus of her Semblance, and it was pleasantly warm on Weiss' thighs. If it wasn't for the furnace dozing off on her, she would've curled up in a tiny ball inside a blanket not long ago.

Aside from her unfair warmth and hair, Weiss was also slightly envious of her eyelashes. A modest amount of cosmetics espionage had told her that the mascara Yang used was the second-cheapest on the market, and to Weiss' critical analysis only slightly better than sticky charcoal. A far cry from the prohibitively expensive compound-Dust marvel of modern science that Weiss used to enhance her own looks, certainly, but yet again the Xiao Long genetics came into play. Yang's eyelashes were freakishly long, and Weiss had had plenty of time to observe them. Dust, they just kept going. Had she even _used_ mascara today?

Weiss shook her head slightly and tucked the lock of hair she had been playing with behind Yang's ear. Unfairness of Yang's physiology aside, Weiss did admit that it was nice to hold her. She had never had close friends back in Atlas—when her father spoke of "friends" he meant "allies," or occasionally, "not enemies"—and even in Beacon it had been a rocky road for everyone involved. A rare smile crept on Weiss' face at that thought. Now she had three friends. Not just people who didn't actively want to shank her, but actual friends. People who trusted her and enjoyed her company. One of who trusted her enough to fall asleep on her. One of— _ohfuck she's awake._

Yang had opened her eyes, looking up at Weiss' with a mildly amused expression. Weiss' fingers froze in Yang's hair, and she quickly looked back up to the movie running on the scroll, hoping that she hadn't been caught staring. Was the girl on the screen yelling at that man the heroine? Probably, Weiss thought. The hair colors matched, so they were likely related. Unluckily for Weiss, based on how widely Yang had started to grin, her faux pas hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Like what you see?" Yang asked with a sleepy blink.

 _Deny and redirect. She's still sleepy and can't trust her senses._

"Not quite, the movie is mostly mediocre. Nothing the main character does makes sense."

 _Yeah, that was a good distraction._ Frankly, she had no idea what the main character's decisions were based on, but in her experience the protagonists were almost invariably morons. Yang, however, didn't seem to buy into her ruse.

"I wasn't talking about the movie."

Weiss resolutely avoided Yang's gaze and kept her eyes on the screen, refusing to admit that she had been staring. _Don't admit into anything. Deny and redirect, shift the blame._

"You mean the movie _you_ picked and fell asleep on?"

Yang didn't answer immediately, and just kept looking up at Weiss. Eventually Weiss cracked and looked back down, meeting the lilac gaze. Her head-splitting grin had shrunk to her trademark smirk.

"Well, it's comfy here," Yang drawled, transitioning into a massive yawn while stretching her arms. She snuggled into a more comfortable position on Weiss' lap, closing her eyes and turning on her side to face her navel. "Can you blame me for not paying attention?"

Weiss' hastily structured web of excuses, misdirection and lies was suddenly useless. Yang wasn't pressing the issue—how was she supposed to react to that? After a few confusing moments of deliberation, she chose to start lazily stroking Yang's hair again.

"I could ask the same. It is comfy here," Weiss said after a minute. Yang smiled and cracked one of her eyes open at that.

"I s'pose," Yang mumbled. Both girls enjoyed the silence for a moment, Weiss entirely forgetting about the movie again. The smile crept back on her face. Yang was right, it was nice to just be comfortable around other people.

Yang shifted slightly on her lap, furrowing her brow a bit.

"Weiss, your legs are too bony."

A microsecond of silence was followed by Weiss' indignant shriek.

"WHAT?!" she sputtered, throwing her hands in the air. "Bony?! My legs aren't 'bony,' you brute, at worst they're 'corded!'"

Yang let out a snort at Weiss' outburst. "Corded? Weiss please, that means they're bony. Imagine going to a wing restaurant and being offered 'corded' chicken legs. Pfft, that just means they're sinewy."

Weiss' voice rose another octave at that. "Sinewy? Chicken legs? You're comparing my appendages to chicken legs now? That's rich coming from a person who found them comfortable enough to sleep on!"

Yang didn't move from her nest. "Beggars can't be choosers, now can we?" Weiss narrowed her eyes and lightly flicked Yang's temple. "Miss Xiao Long, you'll find that there are plenty of places for you to sleep on around here, and I'm sure that none of them will be too 'bony' for your tastes."

Yang whined in response without opening her eyes. "None of those groom me while I'm napping."

"You didn't know that I would when you fell asleep!"

"It paid off, didn't it?"

Weiss crossed her arms and scoffed. "You're impossible." A few moments passed with Weiss looking sternly at the brawler on her lap. Soon enough Yang wiggled in place to show her displeasure.

"Weiiiissss, you're no longer petting me."

"Then you're free to move to non-bony pillow substitutes, are you not?"

"I don't wanna," Yang pouted. Weiss wasn't sure if she had learned that from Ruby—the unmatched master of that art—or if it was yet another built-in Xiao Long feature. Thankfully, Weiss had gained a resistance to that particular trait due to her exposure to the younger sister. Despite the stalemate, neither girl made a move to leave, and after a few more minutes of occasional dissatisfied squirming Yang relented.

"Fine, you legs are all pretty and soft and nice and comfy and will you start petting already?"

Weiss huffed, but lowered her hand back onto Yang's mane all the same.

"Oaf."

* * *

 **A/N: So, I wasn't paying attention and accidentally this story happened. Feel free to yell at me about commas or writing in general.**


End file.
